


in an act of pure defiance

by bulletproofkisses (zarriesquad)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, a lot of sap and then followed by some sad i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9078460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarriesquad/pseuds/bulletproofkisses
Summary: “I love you. My man. My dude. My bro.”Mitch is honestly the most precious person and Dylan definitely thinks the sun is missing some sunshine because Mitch stole them and carries them with him everyday. Dylan is so glad he’s managed to convince this cute and silly and unapologetic boy to be his. Dylan would lasso the moon closer to the Earth just to wine and dine Mitch on its surface. “Sure, I’m your bro.” He replies.“Well, like, not really since I’ve had your dick in my mouth but bro, nonetheless.” Mitch clarifies.





	

**Author's Note:**

> please never let me do this ever again. this was a challenge and a half. this is unbeta-ed because i’m a baby who is insecure about her writing even though i know loads of fantastic writers and friends who would have happily read through this for me. maybe the next one? NO WAIT I just said to never let me do this again.
> 
> title is from the script’s science and faith.

**i**

Dylan’s mom is the first to know out of everyone in both their families and it’s because she catches them red-handed while they’re making out on his bed. Things were getting pretty heated, Mitch was entirely on top of him and he just let out the sweetest sound that Dylan’s working hard to get him to make it again. They’re both extremely preoccupied so they barely hear the knock and the door opening until Dylan’s mom clears her throat and says his name.

Mitch and Dylan spring apart. Dylan rubs his palm on his mouth to save face.

His mom clears her throat again. “Your dad said you’ll have to pick Matt up from his friend’s place.”

Dylan nods and quickly mutters, “uhhhh yeah sure.” His mom leaves the room but not before throwing Dylan a look that manages to be both terrifying and teasing at the same time.

Mitch has turned so red, almost as if he’s just gone off the ice after being bagskated. “Did that just?”

“Yes.”

Mitch palm smacks his own forehead. “Oh god.”

It shouldn’t even be a big deal since Mitch has already met, charmed, and endeared Dylan’s parents. Except it is. They both have not exactly told their family and friends about what’s going on. It’s new and it’s fun, which are enough reasons for them to just want to keep it to themselves. But Dylan knows his mom told Ryan because that night he gets a message that just says, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA BRO”

 

 

**ii**

Every night, without fail, Dylan calls Mitch right before they go to bed. “Want you to be my last thought every night,” he said when Mitch asked. Dylan said it in jest but that didn’t stop Mitch from keeping that close to his heart anyway. On these calls, Dylan lets him go wild and talk about anything and everything he wants to because Dylan Strome is nothing if not a good listener. Mitch _knows_ he can talk for hours upon hours but he really didn’t get the value and much less, the point of calling someone up every night to talk to them when you can drive to see them anyway but now he definitely does. It has unknowingly become the highlight of Mitch’s day, this phone call with Dylan, which makes sense that it is during these blissful minutes that Dylan decides it’s the right time to tell Mitch words he’s been absolutely dying to hear (and say back) for weeks now.

They’ve just crossed the two hour and 45 minute mark on tonight’s phone call when a natural lull in the conversation took over. The silence lasts for a few minutes but eventually gets disrupted by Dylan saying, “hey Mitch”

“Hm?”

“I love you, yeah?”

“Yeah?”

Silence. “Dyl, are you nodding again?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah yes to both things.” Dylan stutters out.

“Okay good, I love you too.” Mitch says. Mitch is absolutely beaming, his cheeks are hurting, and his smile is challenging the sunshine. Dylan can’t see it but he has a feeling Dylan already knows.

 

 

**iii**

They’re currently on a road trip that they had planned before the OHL playoffs even started. They were going to do it, no matter what the outcome was going to be. Obviously, it was supremely kind to Mitch but Dylan’s done moping about that. If he had to lose to a team, he’s glad it was the team that won it all and he’s even more pleased that it was Mitch’s team. They planned it half as a challenge for themselves- if their relationship _really_ was strong enough to overcome important hurdles like this- and the other half was just to have fun and get away from everything and everyone. Circle it back to just the two of them. Much of the foundation of their relationship was built while being away from home so they wanted to do something to bring it back to that.

They’re in the car now, Dylan is the one driving and Mitch is Snapchatting himself ridiculously singing along to a song on the radio. Basically, Mitch’s Snapstory is about 400 seconds of him trying to take James Corden and his carpool karaoke out of business. He sneakily pans the camera out to Dylan, who is singing along, too. Dylan whines but then says, “smack a filter on that” when Mitch stops filming to watch what he just recorded.

“A geofilter one?” Mitch asks, scrolling through his phone to assess the different options.

“Yeah, go for it.”

Mitch puts the snap up and looks to put his phone away when he receives a flood of Snapchat notifications (“oooh, McLeod just snapped me! See, your friends are my friends!”). He opens the one from Mikey first, since it’s a rare one, and it’s a video with the caption, “Same” and Nate is going, “Mikey, just film me if you don’t wanna sing!” then starts enthusiastically singing Ariana Grande’s Side To Side, wiping away the non-existent sweat on his forehead and pretending to be on a bike just like in the music video. Just as time runs out, Mikey’s mockingly alarmed wide green eyes take over the screen.

“Was that Mikey and Nater? They’re quite cute, yeah?”

“I mean. Not as cute as us.” Mitch smugly replies.

“Oh duh, of course.”

There are a few more notifications from Brinksy and Davo (well, Davo via Aaron’s phone since Connor gets clingy as fuck during the summer). Mitch reads all of them out loud with Dylan quickly telling him what to chirp back. There’s one from Dvorak: “tell Stromer not to slack on training, arms look weak” which had Mitch cackling.

“Oh shut up. Tell him he needs to be quiet. I’m going to win all the drills during camp.” Mitch types it out, giggling the whole way through and finally puts his phone away.

Dylan’s eyes are on the road but he glances right as he catches Mitch grinning at him. “What?” Dylan asks, moving his hand from on the wheel to Mitch’s knee, gently stroking it. “Nothing, just really stoked we’re doing this,” Mitch answers, taking Dylan’s hand and threading their fingers together. “Really really stoked.”

 

 

**iv**

Due to Ryan’s engagement, Dylan has family coming in from all the corners of Canada. Tons of his cousins and relatives are in and out of his house and he’s had no time at all to spend with Mitch. Mitch does not want to impose but to be perfectly honest, he’s feeling a bit annoyed that Dylan didn’t even invite him to what feels like a 2 week-long festivity at their house. So, yes, Mitch is sulking in his room and no, Davo, you are absolutely not allowed to “subtly” mention it to Dylan. Like, Connor McDavid knows anything about subtle. All the sulking has exhausted Mitch so he decided to text Dylan with, “hope you’re not getting tormented too bad. stromer. miss you, love you, see you soon.” and call it a day.

Dylan finally has a spare minute or two except it’s now a quarter to three in the morning. Waaaaay past Mitch’s bedtime. Dylan selfishly wanted to ask him to stay up but decided not to, Mitch should get all the sleep hours he can get while he still can. Dylan drives to Mitch’s place and since a few hours have passed since Dylan read the good night text, he’s quite sure that Mitch is already asleep and he can execute his plan without any wrinkles. He uses the Marner’s spare key under the rug right outside their side door and goes to Mitch’s room. He’s tall and lanky which causes him to be clumsy as hell but Dylan does his best to not make a single sound, save for a few door and floor creaks here and there. Dylan gets to Mitch’s room and uses his phone as a flashlight, smartly aiming it upwards and not right at Mitchell’s face. In his head, he pats himself on the back for that stroke of genius. He gives him a delicate kiss and then, gently presses a sticky note on Mitch’s forehead and heads home.

The next morning, Mitch wakes up and the note is only half attached at this point. He abruptly swats at it, not realizing that the note is as harmless as they come. He then recognizes that it’s a post-it, removes it from his forehead and reads,

_“You’re snoozing so you lost on the chance of seeing your handsome boyfriend who misses you a lot._

_Love,_

_D_

_P.S. you drool (i’m still so in love with you anyway)”_

 

 

**v**

Dylan has a free house for the next couple of days, which is a miracle in and of itself. His parents are on a tropical island somewhere, Ryan is on a different tropical island of his own, and his younger brother is visiting their grandparents for the weekend. Dylan’s managed to stay at home on the virtue of “someone’s got to take care of the house” which both Ryan and Matt rolled their eyes at. Mitch has basically been living with him ever since Dylan’s parents left. It’s a good preview into what their lives could be when they finally buy that apartment in Toronto they’ve been talking about. Dylan has never been this domestic ever in his life and it’s fucking great. 10/10. Would recommend. Until…

Dylan looks up from his phone and frowns because Mitch is cleaning? Rearranging? Well, Mitch is walking from one side of Dylan’s room to the other, carrying bits and bobs and putting them down and stepping back to assess his work. “Babe, that’s not supposed to be there.”

“No, it’s fine, Dyls. See,” Mitch says while gesturing to the laundry hamper that Mitch has moved from right by Dylan’s desk to inside his closet. “It’s better, it won’t be in the way.”

“Yeah but when I get back from my run, I want to take off my shirt and just drop it there.” 

Mitch is looking at Dylan like he’s lost his mind. “Uhhh, Stromer??? You can still do that! Only thing is you just have to open this one door and stash it there.” 

“Marns. No.”         

“Dylan.” 

“Mitch.” 

“Oh my god, if I didn’t love you so much, I would actually punch you right now! It trips people up when it gets too full if it stays right by your desk, Dyls.”

“It’ll only trip what? You, me, Davo, and my mom?” Dylan argues, counting the names on his fingers as he says them. “So?” 

“Stromer.” They’re both locked in a staredown. No one budges until- 

“You- UGH,” Mitch throws his hands up. “Fine.” 

Mitch grabs the hamper and puts it back beside the desk then looks at Dylan as if to say, “you happy?” Dylan just grins at him. “Looooove you!” Mitch rolls his eyes at Dylan and starts to walk out of the room but Dylan, all long arms and even longer legs, quickly grabs his waist and pulls him back to the bed.

“Ah! Dyl! Careful!” Mitch warns but Dylan is too busy chuckling and twisting so that Mitch ends up on his back. “He-“ Mitch starts but is cut off by Dylan peppering gentle kisses all over his face. He starts with one in between Mitch’s eyebrows then down his nose. Kiss. Kisskiss. Kiss. 

“Say you love me back, dumbass.” Dylan says into the crook of Mitch’s neck before pressing more kisses there. 

“No.” Dylan freezes for a split second before he goes and bites Mitch’s neck. “OUCH!” Mitch yells. “Fucking hell! Oh my god, you’re a dick. Of course I love you back, asshole.” 

Dylan is laughing at Mitch but he’s also soothing the bite with soft kisses so win some, lose some.

 

 

**vi**

Later that night, a playful wrestling match resulted in them panting, shortness of breathe very much apparent even though they’re professional athletes. They’re both lying down on the living room carpet, heads next to each other but bodies going in the opposite direction. A few seconds ago, they were giggling while, at the same time, trying to catch their breath. It’s slowly getting better now. Just a few chuckles here and there.

When they’re lying down like this, Mitch usually likes to start a game they’ve played ever since they first said I love you to one another. It’s a stupid and shallow and naïve game since, at the end of the day, the answer is always yes but they play it anyway. It always starts with something stupid like “will you still love me if I fart right on your face?” “Will you still love me if I lose a tooth and decided I didn’t want to put a fake one in?” “Will you still love me if I sounded like a chipmunk?” “Will you still love me if I start rooting for the Habs?” “Will you still love me if my brother accidentally grabbed one of your Knights shirts and now its all the way in New York and it probably doesn’t smell like you anymore?” “Will you still love me if one day I decided that I actually hated hockey?”

That night it was:

“Will you still love me if I said Ryan is the Strome who’s the best at hockey?” 

“Mitch. I got drafted third.” 

“Slow draft day.” 

“You got drafted on the same day, babe!” 

Mitch shrugs. 

Dylan shakes his head. “You’re such an asshole.” 

A pause and then, “will you still love me if I won’t make it to the show next season?” Mitch says into the quiet.

“Only if you’ll still love me if I won the cup during said season.” 

“I really do hate you.” 

Dylan grins. “Anyway, that’s not going to happen.” 

“What is? You winning the cup next season?” Mitch asks. “I mean, obviously, Dyls.” 

“Ha ha good one, Mitchell,” Dylan is so good at laying the sarcasm on thick but he also knows how to switch from fun to serious when Mitch needs him to. He shifts his body so he’s lying, beside Mitch, on his side, one hand propping his head up to be able to look at Mitch better. “But listen here, you’re going to make the team. You’re going to play at the ACC. Babcock is going to lose his mind over how good you are, Marns. Toronto’s going to fall in love with you, except they won’t ever be able to love you more than I already do.” Dylan says, looking at Mitch and gently running the pad of his thumb over and over on Mitch’s cheek.

Mitch kisses him. Hard. It gets filthy real quick, Mitch goading Dylan to open up and slipping his tongue in when he does. Dylan responds with his own enthusiasm by biting down on Mitch’s lower lip enough to make it hurt so good and enough to force a whine from the back of Mitch’s throat. Mitch leans back and, with a soft smile on his face says, “Stromer, you’re a sap.”

“You basically asked-“ Dylan’s argument gets lost in between hungry kisses and Mitch pulling him to the bedroom and promptly shoving him on the bed. That night, Mitch rode him to within an inch of his life, whispering “love you Dyl” almost every five minutes, like Dylan would ever forget.

 

 

**vii**

Dylan Strome knows a lot about Mitch Marner. He knows where Mitch is especially ticklish, he knows Mitch prefers if the food on his plate don’t touch, he knows that Mitch loves going on Instagram right when he wakes up but if you ask for a cuddle, he’ll quickly drop his phone and wrap his whole self around you, he knows the voice Mitch uses when he’s trying not to cry, he knows the face Mitch makes when he’s about to come, the way Mitch bats his eyelashes when he wants them to try something new in the bedroom...

Point is: he knows a lot about Mitch. But this- this he didn’t know. He didn’t know drunk Mitch was the jealous type. As in possessive, will-fight-everything-that-comes-within-10-feet-of-Dylan-Strome jealous type. It seems like Mitch sees red every time someone so much as looks at Dylan. Connor walks up to Dylan, after being away from his side for approximately 5 minutes, and goes, “you know the saying if looks could kill?”

“Yeah? What about it?” Dylan says, cocks his head in confusion. 

“Well, your boyfriend has killed about 3 of our friends and at least one Mcleod,” Connor says, while jutting his chin in Mitch’s general direction. 

“Oh.” 

“I’m not gonna look but I bet you he’s throwing daggers at me.” 

Dylan tilting his body to get a better view beyond Connor and, “yep. I should probably-"

“You bet!”

Dylan saunters over to where Mitch is sitting in the middle of the couch, gesticulating his way through a story about- who knows, Dylan can barely hear anything over the loud music pumping throughout the house. Mitch, coincidentally, is cockblocking Travis and Crouser. It looks like he plopped himself in the middle of the both of them. Lawson being Lawson, just has a smile on his face, giggling at Mitch’s blabbering and whole drunkenness but Dylan can’t say the same about TK though, he looks like he’s thisclose to shoving Mitch out of the way and Dylan knows if it wasn’t for Lawson being so damn entertained, he would have done it ages ago.

Dylan knows he has an exasperated but mostly fond look on his face because TK’s frown goes a bit soft when he spots Dylan moving towards them. Dylan nods at him, as if to say “yes Trav, I’m taking care of it now.”

“Hey babe,” Dylan catches one of Mitch’s flailing hands and makes him pay attention to him. “Hey, let’s get you upstairs and get some water in you, eh?”

Mitch immediately pipes up even more, upon seeing Dylan. _God._ “Yes hi Dyl,” Mitch enthusiastically replies while burying his face in Dylan’s neck upon standing up. Dylan holds his hand and leads Mitch, walking them away from the couch but Mitch stops in his tracks and pulls on his hand, making Dylan turn to him and ask what was going on. Mitch raises his index finger and pokes Dylan’s chest, pushes into his space and says, “have I mentioned that you’re great? Cause oh man, you’re absolutely terrific. Damn. Good word, good word.” Dylan is looking at his boyfriend both in awe and in amusement. So _that’s_ why Lawson didn’t care about postponing getting his dick wet cause damn, Mitch is a delight. “Thanks babe, now come on, we have to go upstairs.”

Dylan takes one step and Mitch is pulling on their intertwined hands again, “Marns…” 

“No, Dyl, you’re not listening. I love you.”

“I love you t-“ 

“I love you. My man. My dude. My bro.” 

Dylan can’t help but cackle at that. Mitch is honestly the most precious person and Dylan definitely thinks the sun is missing some sunshine because Mitch stole them and carries them with him everyday. Dylan is so glad he’s managed to convince this cute and silly and unapologetic boy to be his. Dylan would lasso the moon closer to the Earth just to wine and dine Mitch on its surface. “Sure, I’m your bro.” He replies, complete with a smirk.

“Well, like, not really since I’ve had your dick in my mouth but bro, nonetheless.” Mitch clarifies. 

“Oh-kay, Mitchell, let’s go upstairs,” Dylan chuckles and hastily pulls Mitch along with him up the stairs.

In the bedroom, Mitch is apparently still not done with proclaiming his love for Dylan to Dylan. “You’re mine, yeah?” Mitch says while his fists are softly pounding Dylan’s chest. “I love you the most. I love a ridiculous amount, Stromer, what the fuck. 

Dylan’s heart grows about ten times and he feels a solid foot taller. _This boy, honestly._ “Alright, Marns, I believe you,” He gently grabs Mitch’s chin to get him to look at him, “And hey bud, guess what? I love you too.” He says while tenderly rubbing Mitch’s cheek.

“Fantastic!” Mitch is grinning so wide. Dylan used to think Mitch’s mouth could not get any bigger for his face but this grin is changing that. 

Mitch is now sprawled on the bed, shirt off and Dylan’s now working on getting his shoes and socks off when Mitch stirs and sleepily raises his head to get a better view of Dylan and says, “I’m not usually like this but you…” He trails off, head falling on the pillow. 

“You have no idea what you do to me too,” Dylan tells Mitch, although the latter’s probably already too knocked out to have heard. Dylan makes a mental reminder to tell Mitch in the morning.

 

\--

 

The next day, Dylan enters his room right as Mitch is waking up. He patiently watches as Mitch, with eyes still closed, reaches over the other side of the bed to feel for Dylan. He’s left patting at the empty space beside him, which sends him slowly lifting his head up and squinting around the room, clearly looking for Dylan. 

He finally spots him by the door when he hears Dylan greet him a good morning. 

“Hey, come back to bed.” 

Dylan doesn’t need to be told twice. He walks over, takes off his shirt and gets comfortable beside Mitch. Mitch wraps himself around Dylan, kisses his shoulder and says, “clean up day?”

“Clean up day.”

“Okay, in a minute. Let’s just stay here for a bit.” Another shoulder kiss. Dylan responds with a kiss of his own, this time on the top of Mitch’s head.

 

 

**viii**

Mitch doesn’t really know Aaron Ekblad. He only knows the bare minimum. Aaron is a first overall pick. He’s a defenseman who plays for the Panthers so the tan he’s sporting right now is most definitely a consequence of that. He knows he’s one of the most handsome players in the NHL (no one exaggerated on that one, shockingly. Given how hockey players _love_ their hyperboles). He spends his spare time baking cookies and he knows that Aaron is dating fellow 1st overall draft pick, savior of the NHL, Dylan’s bestfriend- Connor McDavid. They make quite a pair. Mitch has hung out with them a handful of times and about all of those times Mitch has not been _completely sober_ so really, he hasn’t really hung out with him at all.

But right now, they’re both at Smashfest, a yearly table tennis tournament in Toronto, in a room full of NHL-ers that Mitch doesn’t know. Aaron is basically the only one he _knows_ and that’s in the loosest sense of the word so Mitch figures why the fuck not. He walks up to Aaron and says hi.

“Hey bud,” Aaron says, smiling at him and extending his hand for a shake. “Congrats on the Memorial Cup and all those trophies, hot shot.” Mitch takes it. The handshake is firm, seems like Aaron has tons of practice in that area. Well, duh. NHL-er. The league probably allocates a budget for handshake lessons.

Anyway, Mitch and Aaron end up spending most of their time at Smashfest together. Only separating when they have to do their own media engagements and when they’re actually playing in the tournament. Aaron is a fun guy and is fairly all right at table tennis. He’s funny and has the best Connor stories and Mitch always loves himself a good Connor story. Not a lot of people know Connor the way Aaron and Dylan do. Speaking of, Dylan and Connor just sent Mitch and Aaron a photo of them cheesing for the camera, both shirtless and hanging out by the pool. Mitch smiles and looks at it until the time expires then turns to Aaron and sees his own fond look mirrored there. He chuckles, “we’re pretty whipped, eh?”

“Haha, yeah, just a little bit.” Aaron replies, unapologetic.

“Did you ever, like,” Mitch starts and Aaron finishes with, “get jealous?” He says with a knowing look. 

“Ah, yeah.”

“I mean. I’d be lying if I said no.”

“Did you tell him?” Mitch asks. “Cause I don’t know what Stromer would do if I told him I was, all I know is it probably won’t be in my favour.” 

Aaron gets this look on his face, like he’s suppressing a wince. “Yeah… It didn’t go well for me. I think we argued about it, first time he raised his voice at me, I think. Then we didn’t talk for like, a week.” 

“Oooft.” 

“They’re platonic life partners. It’s no use getting jealous.” 

“Right yeah I know, it’s just… weird being second to someone you consider as first. But I guess, it’s not so bad being second to Connor McDavid.”

Everyone’s second to Connor, right?”

Mitch hums and nods his agreement. “It’s just. They consult one another more than their own parents?” 

“Ha! Yeah,” Aaron said. “when Connor was recovering from his broken collarbone, he was jacked on drugs when I Facetimed him. Kept saying he missed me, he wanted to see me, he was being very cute about it. So the next day, I called him again and told him to come to Florida and rest up here. Know what he did?”

“Went to Erie instead?”

“Yep,” Aaron answers. “I was upset, didn’t talk to him for 3 days but eventually had to realize that that’s just the way they are.”

“Dylan was definitely more supportive of Connor when Connor won all those trophies than when I won all of mine this year.” Mitch bitterly mutters. Mitch is getting upset thinking about it all again. They’ve talked about it and rehashed it a lot of times but it still stings anyway.

“I know it’s against your nature but you just can’t compete with that so just build on what you have.”

“Yeah… I figured. It just sucks sometimes anyway.”

Aaron nods, completely understanding. A couple of minutes and a few other talks later, Aaron lifts his phone to Mitch’s face to show a text from Connor which says, “tell Mitch Dylan doesn’t want to be clingy so he hasn’t triple texted him but Dylan would appreciate a reply ASAP” followed by “but I’m not like him. I miss you, pls don’t try too hard at the tournament and come home already”

So Mitch pulls up his Snapchat app and asks Aaron to squeeze in. He sends a photo of the two of them hamming up to the camera to Connor and Dylan. Dylan replies with all the heart emojis and the monkey with its hands over its eyes and a few seconds later, “miss u marns.” Connor’s reply just says “*heart eyes emoji* at Aaron"

Mitch chuckles.

 

**-1**

Mitch feels off-kilter.

His whole life revolves around being able to balance and maneuver on knives secured to the bottom of his shoes but he has never felt an unsettling shift in his own equilibrium that’s to this degree. Not when he was two- his first time on the ice. His father has strapped him to skates that were borrowed at the local rink, letting Mitch go and flail around to get his bearings. His dad, always barely a half stride away just in case.

Not at twelve years old when he realized how fast the ice allowed him to go. At first, tentatively pushing his legs to the ice to see if they could gain enough traction. Wobbling here and there. But eventually, he was zooming from one side of the rink to the other in just a few strides. Feeling the air and his blood rushing through his ears. Nothing could ever stop him… Except the times when he lost an edge to his skate and found himself careening into the boards, which was painful. His father- observing the bruises on his body the next day with disappointment but also with a solid, steady tinge of pride and that. That was its own kind of pain, too.

Not at sixteen, when he realized that maybe he can and _does_ like holding hands with girls **and** boys. That thinking boys can be just as kissable as girls isn’t something he should hate or hide about himself. He’s working on the _hide_ part but he’ll get there, soon enough. He thought he was maybe there but this.

His whole world has been shifted on the axis he thought would be stubborn and unmoved. He’s off-kilter but he looks down and both his feet are planted firmly on his bedroom floor.

“Mitch,” Dylan licks his lips and looks down and in a voice that’s barely audible, “I think we should maybe end this.” See the thing is, Dylan’s mouth is moving and the words are definitely there and Mitch is registering them, except not at all.

“Wha-“ Mitch swallows. Tries again. “What do you mean?”

“I just.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Mitch clarifies.

He’s met with silence as dead as the air between them. They’re in Toronto, in Mitch’s room, and it’s just a couple of days before Dylan has to fly out to Arizona for camp.

“Dyls?” Mitch’s brows are furrowed and Dylan’s looking pretty distraught but he’s not taking back what he just said- why is he not taking back his words? “Like, I know we didn’t talk about it but that’s cause I didn’t think we’d need to?”

“Marns, please.”

“I- I thought we both understood how ha-“

“Mitch. Just leave it.”

“Leave it?” Okay, screw sad cause now, Mitch is mad. Literally, what the fuck?

“Mitch… I’m,” Dylan swallows, runs his hand through his hair. “Please. Just leave it. This is it! Maybe for now? I don’t know.” Dylan runs a hand through his hair again. Dylan’s hair is now a mess. It’s all spikes and there’s that one strand that’s trying to be a cowlick but is not succeeding. It’s looking like how it does in the early mornings they’ve shared in various countries in Europe- waking up within minutes _and inches_ of each other and wasting at least 20 minutes of staring and smiling and giggling at each other.

“I’m going to be in Arizona, we’ve gotta make our teams…” Dylan fades.

“Fuck you! No. No. No, you don’t get to break up with me, Stromer!” Mitch’s one hand is flailing around but the other is permanently on his work table as if it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “Especially not over this!”

_Off balance. Loss of equilibrium. This. Sucks._

Dylan is quiet. He shuffles his feet in place.

“I’m willing to do it! I’m willing to do this, keep doing this and I’m gonna be playing **in** Toronto! DYLAN HOW DARE YOU” Mitch is so angry that he even has to say all of this, has to plead like this.

“Exactly! You’ve got to focus, Mitch.”

“You think this is going to HELP? Are you for real?!” Mitch is definitely yelling now. If his mom comes home to this, he’s in trouble but he doesn’t care. His heart is falling apart. He feels blindsided. A blindsided hit in hockey is probably better than this cause you know, chances are, that will happen in a hockey but this?

Mitch walks up and grabs Dylan’s face in both his hands and moves it so he can look at him better. Dylan is refusing to look Mitch in the eyes. “Hey. We’ll figure it out. Please, we can do this.”

Mitch squeezes a tad. “It’s you and me, Dyls.” He loves Dylan and Dylan loves him. He knows this. Shouldn’t that count for something?

Dylan is staring at him blankly. Dylan stares a bit more. Then his face shifts and it’s like he’s annoyed and impatient and completely done with Mitch trying to fight for their relationship. Which. Wow.

Mitch drops his hand and steps back. “I see.”

 

**-2**

Mitch wakes up to his phone's insistent vibrations. It’s an ungodly time of the day and he definitely should not be awake if he wants to have ample energy for practice in a few hours. He flails around and fails to pick up on time.

 

**Missed call: Stromer [3]**

 

Mitch hasn’t heard from Dylan in months. When Mitch scored his first NHL goal, he got a text message from almost every single person on his contact list and every single person he’s ever played with. Well, almost every single person. Dylan didn’t text, he didn’t call, didn’t open any lines of communication. Mitch thought the lack of communication extended to Connor but him and Davo have continued to text. They even talked for a good 40 minutes after Davo’s captaincy was announced. They did skirt around the Dylan Thing but Mitch is glad he still has Davo. Connor McDavid is a good friend to have.

Dylan was sent back down to the O, back to Erie to play for the Otters. Mitch likes to think that, at his core, he’s a good person but reading tweets about Dylan getting scratched more games than he’s playing in almost felt like Karma took over and was righting things. Laying down revenge in Mitch’s behalf which sounds so cool but really, it just bummed him out. Dylan Strome broke his heart but Dylan’s a phenomenal player who deserves to be in the show. Mitch wanted to text him when the news broke but what was he even going to say that wasn’t gonna sound patronizing or pitying or ‘hey guess who won the break up?’ to a guy who probably is as down as it has ever gotten in his life. Literally and figuratively. (That’s a lie, WJC 2015 was real bad. They still don’t talk about that.)

His phone pings to signal a text.

**I think I did something wrong along the way somehow.**

Mitch sits up and reacts out loud, “Huh?”

A few more pings.

**Not the break up. I stand by that.**

**Wait maybe that, I don’t know.**

**Fuck**

**I’m not even drunk**

**Ignore all this, Marns.**

**I’m sorry**

Mitch scrolls back up to the first message and reads them all over again. _What?_

“Mhmmm, baby,” Arms slowly situate themselves around Mitch’s torso and he feels a quick kiss to the side of his thigh, over his shorts, and then a head settling on his lap. Mitch looks down at the person- at Auston- and he can feel the makings of a soft smile on his face. Auston makes him stupid happy. “What’s up? 

Auston who kissed Mitch with just the right amount of enthusiasm and care when Mitch brought an extra hoodie during one of their outdoor team activities because he knows Auston’s desert raised self will still get cold easily despite having lived in Switzerland (even though Auston will never admit it). Auston, who always packs an extra tie because Mitch likes to change his last minute- even on roadies. Auston who is a solid grump in the mornings but lets Mitch belt out the tunes on the radio during drives to the rink because he knows it calms Mitch down. Auston, who took his time with Mitch, who was _so_ patient when Mitch was unsure about his feelings resulting in him bouncing between hot needy affection one day and closed off, almost stiff arming Auston the next. 

Who knew Mitch was allowed to be this blissful and ecstatic about life? He won the Memorial Cup, won every possible award along the way, **and** got drafted to his childhood team. He thought it was about time he would have to pay his dues but no, he found Auston instead. He found Auston, he’s playing in the show… Well yeah, they’re not winning as much as they should but they’re playing fun, fantastic hockey and just. Mitch is at a really good place in his life right now.

“It’s... It’s,” Mitch says. “It can wait in the morning. Let’s go back to sleep.”

Auston opens one eye and asks, “You sure?

Mitch nods then turns back to fix the pillows and lie down, with his back to Auston. Auston arranges the two of them in a comfortable position with one of his arms on Mitch’s waist. Mitch is gently tracing patterns on the arm wrapped around his waist to help himself fall back asleep. He’s thinking it’s going to take a while before that will happen but then he feels three soft kisses to the back of his neck and just like that. Just that easy.

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be one of those x many times they said I love you to one another fics but I messed that concept up lol


End file.
